Don't Look Back
by PerfectLoveBubble
Summary: Starting during the events of book 7. Harry manages to save Snape and they both survive the war, but during the months spent rebuilding Hogwarts things change between them. How will they cope with life beyond where neither had expected to survive. The answer: don't look back. SS/HP
1. Where we start

"Quick, bring me the Bezoar!"

"We don't have one! I didn't think to pack one!"

"I know it's in there, Mione, I saw it when I passed the dittany. Now GIVE IT HERE!" Harry screamed. In front of him, beneath his blood covered hands, was Severus Snape. "I need the dittany too."

Hermione pointed her wand into her bag and accio'ed the requested items, all but throwing them at Harry the moment they landed in her hand.

"Come on now, Snape. Swallow it. No, I won't collect your goddamn tears. You will live and tell me yourself, you hear me?!" The anger in his voice simply covered up the fear he felt.

Reluctantly the bezoar was swallowed, and Harry began to move his hands to the side and apply the dittany to the wounds.

"There's a book in there, Mione, one on healing. I know you packed it." She summoned it, then used a spell that flicked through the pages to the section she knew Harry was looking for.

Harry's wand was in his hand, his eyes scanning the page as Hermione placed the book in front of him. The wand movements were complex, harder than he had thought they'd be.

"I'm not sure you can do it, Harry." She sounded sad, worn down by what they'd already been through and ready to give up hope.

"If we don't try he'll die anyway." The words were subdued, leaving less room for argument than if he'd shouted at her.

_In line with the right shoulder, down to the left hip, figure eight over the victims wounds, the back to eye level. Three sweeping passes diagonally across the face, from right down to left, then chant the incantation whilst making clockwise circles around the victims' wounds and heart alternately, keeping pace with the slow, clearly enunciated chant._

This was almost as complicated as one of the potions the man he was trying to save would have assigned. If it wouldn't have ruined his concentration, Harry would have laughed.

_Sana animam tollere dolor. Signa vulneribus exuret egritudine. Claudicatis in vestigio mori._

_Heal the heart, remove the pain. Seal the wounds, burn out disease. Halt death in its tracks._

Three times through the incantation, keeping his wand movements in time, before Harry began to see signs of the wounds closing. Four, then five, and finally it looked like the wounds were closed. He stopped chanting, finished his wand movements, and looked at his Professor's face instead of where the snake had savaged him a mere hour before.

His eyes were closed, his skin paler than usual, but he was breathing.

Harry let the breath he was holding go, rocking back on to his heels and risking a glance at Hermione and Ron. The looks on their faces matched his. Relief.

He was glad that neither of them had tried to say anything. Snape had killed Dumbledore, but there was so much death surrounding them that every life that could be saved should be.

"Let's get him back to the castle."

The climb had been a steep one, the hundreds of stairs seeming more like a climb up a mountain than anything else. Thankfully they had remembered to levitate Snape before attempting to drag him up the stairs.

Harry's energy was waning. He knew that Hermione hadn't read the paragraph before examining the spell, or she would have seen the passage that he had noticed on his quick scan through. The spell used energy from the caster to heal the patient. The more times through the incantation had to be read, the weaker the caster would get. A spell to be used with caution, and traditionally only by professional healers. Not knowing your limit, or how much the incantation could take out of you, could be fatal for the healer, and depending on the level of damage there would be little to no guarantee that your patient would survive even as you drained your own life.

Ron wanted to run back up the steps, Hermione too, but they could see Harry was taking longer than them. He waved them on.

"I'll bring him back. Go see if they're okay."

The look of gratitude on Ron's face made Harry's heart fall. Sure, he cared about whether the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks and Kingsley made it out of this alive, as well as the classmates he had known for all the years he had been at Hogwarts, but he didn't have that same connection to people, that same fear that Ron felt now. Even Sirius had meant less to him, as much as it pained him to realise.

Of course Sirius had been important to him, but Ron had spent his entire life being surrounded by these people, teased, looked after, but most of all loved. Harry had hardly known Sirius before he was gone again. Harry's love for Sirius was strong, but not matured, and at least partially assisted by the promise that Sirius would take Harry away from his aunt and uncle.

Not that any of that mattered now, he realised, climbing up the stairs one step at a time, keeping Snape bobbing along behind him. Something made him believe that he wouldn't last to the end of this war. Snape had probably thought the same.

It was a sobering thought. The terror his aunt and uncle had caused him was nothing to the way others felt at the hand of Voldemort, yet Harry had little cause to fear for his own safety. If sacrificing himself meant that everyone he cared about could live then it was entirely worth it. If he lived and lost more people that he cared about, he would never be able to forgive himself.

The top of the staircase was suddenly underfoot, and Harry stumbled a little as he lifted his foot for the next stair and missed, simply because there wasn't one. His energy hadn't replenished much, but he felt a little better for not trying to race up the stairs.

He began to jog, Snape's unconscious body floating behind him, following the same up and down movements of his body. Where could he leave him? The Great Hall wasn't really an option, seeing as most of the people in there resented and hated Snape for what he had done. They would sooner kill him for allowing the atrocities that had happened than let him recover in peace. No, he needed somewhere away from the others.

The potions class room was the closest room that Harry could think of, and what more appropriate place to leave the former Potions Master than in his old teaching grounds.

He propped the man up in the chair at the front of the classroom and wrote a quick note on a piece of parchment telling where he had gone, in case Snape woke up while he wasn't there. He then ran back up to the Great Hall, willing his legs with all his might to make it there so that he could see if anyone he cared about had suffered a horrible fate.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was subdued, bodies lying on the ground and friends and family standing around their fallen loved ones. The Weasleys were all huddled in a group near one of the bodies, but with a quick count of the red hair Harry could tell that they were okay. Instead, there seemed to be a shock of pink hair in the middle that told him who they were comforting.

It took three seconds for his mind to make the connection. _Remus._

If Tonks was being looked after then Remus must be dead.

Harry ran, weaving in and out of the groups of unhappy people, heart pounding harder than it had even when Sirius had died.

_It can't be. It just can't._

But it was true. There, lying on the ground, paler than he had ever been, was Remus. Tears slid down Harry's face, but no sound came out. He couldn't sob. He felt like his voice had been ripped from his throat. He'd lost so many, and here was another example of his failure.

The Weasleys hadn't noticed he had come in, nor had Hermione or Tonks. None of them turned around as he left, running faster than he had before. He had to end this. No more lives were allowed to be taken from him, from them. It was time to end this.

Severus was awake. He had found the note, read it, and now he was waiting for the return of the boy he had spent so long protecting.

What he had not expected, he realised as he watched the boy charge back into the room, was the look of utter determination on his face. Something had happened, he knew, but the boy should have expected casualties during a war.

"Tell me," Harry demanded, and Severus was half tempted to ask what the boy wanted to know, despite knowing full well that he wanted the details of the memories Severus had tried to give him.

"It was Dumbledore's idea." The look on Harry's face was completely blank, so Severus elaborated. "For me to kill him, in Draco's stead."

Conflict, that was the next expression to pass across the boy's face. "Why?" was all Harry allowed himself to ask. It was as though there was no time to ask more.

"The ring. The horcrux that Dumbledore found. He put it on, and it cursed him. It was killing him anyway, and he knew that killing him would secure my place at Voldemort's side, despite trying to be a spy for the light. He knew it would spare Draco from the horror of being a murderer."

"How does that help me?" Harry asked, quiet and unsure what to say.

"It helps you trust what I will say next." Severus had never wanted to tell the secret that Dumbledore had given him, but from the look in Harry's eyes he wouldn't rest until the Dark Lord was dead and gone.

"You are the seventh horcrux." There was silence.

"The night he tried to kill you, he managed to bind part of his soul to you before he was destroyed."

"I have to die." There was no surprise in those words, no horror at the thought of having to give his life up for the others out there.

Severus could only nod. It had been hard enough to tell a seventeen year old boy that he had to sacrifice himself for the good of everyone else, but he had not expected this determined, unfazed attitude that he was presenting.

"There's still one left."

Severus hadn't even realised he had looked away from Harry until his head snapped back up to look at him again. "One horcrux?"

Harry nodded. "The snake, Nagini."

"Very well," Severus nodded. "Do what you must, I will make sure the snake is seen to."

"Thank you, Professor, and good luck."

"Good luck to you too, Harry," Severus replied, hoping that, against all odds, this young boy would be able to survive the monstrosities of this war. Somehow his stomach couldn't quite handle the idea that Dumbledore would martyr the child so young in his life.


	2. Into the forest

The forest was dark and infinitely more ominous than the previous times Harry had been in there. Even facing Aragog again would be less nerve wrecking than this, but he knew he had no choice and had to go on. It was for the sake of the wizarding world, and more importantly the friends he had left, so that hopefully this loss of life could end with him.

The cloak sat heavy around his shoulders, and he could feel the snitch Dumbledore had left him flutter impatiently against his leg through the pocket of his trousers. He trudged on, trying hard to make as little sound as possible, however the air was still crisp with winter chill, and there was frost on the ground which crunched beneath his feet. The beat of his heart was the most prominent sound in the silence, the wind a bare flicker that hardly rustled the tree tops. It seemed that the whole forest knew what was happening. There was no rustling of paws on the ground, no tweet of birds in the trees, but although Harry couldn't see them, and they couldn't see him, he could feel the eyes of the forest's magical inhabitants watching his every step.

He had been halfway across the empty grounds, wondering where the Death Eaters had gone, before he had heard the words that pierced his body, driving him to his knees. They were waiting for him. Somewhere in this vast enchanted forest there was a horde of murderous wizards waiting for him to face off with their leader.

Harry stopped for a moment, afraid to go on, despite the voice I his head insisting that this is what had to be done, that this was the only option if he wanted the people he cared about to survive.

It was daunting, facing his death after what felt like only a few short years of life. As far as he was concerned he had barely been living before he started his time at Hogwarts, and now, only seven years later, he was in this predicament.

The fluttering of the snitch against his leg caught his attention, the muffled beating of the wings all he could hear in the silence now that he was no longer moving.

_I open at the close._

This was it then, what Dumbledore had meant by the engraving on the beautiful golden ball.

With trembling fingers he pulled the ball from his pocket, making sure he had a firm hold of it between his fingers in case it tried to fly the moment it was free. It seemed to sense what was happening, though, because the moment it was free of its confines the wings ceased to move, folding back into the surface of the ball.

One long, drawn out breath in, one slow breath out.

He pressed his lips to the ball

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not this. It was not the small red stone that fell into his palm as the side of the snitch moved away to reveal its contents.

He knew the stories, of course. They were at the heart of everything that had happened since his 17th birthday. The Deathly Hallows. Three sacred objects, all now with him as their master.

He gripped the stone tightly.

Suddenly it was as if the wind had picked up in the area close to Harry. The leaves on the ground, worn and decaying, suddenly swirled into motion. The trees around him rustled vigorously, and then as quickly as it had started it had stopped.

Where the leaves had been a few moments before stood figures, people he recognised. Sirius, Remus and his parents. They were not quite as he remembered them, though. Instead of colour and flesh there was mist, more solid in some places than others. They were creations of the stone, then. Yet, somehow, that made them no less real.

"We are proud of you, son," said Lily, moving forward to pass her ghostly hand over his cheek. Harry shivered in anticipation, though her touch was even more insubstantial than her form. James nodded, smiling in appreciation.

It was Sirius who spoke next.

"Stay strong. You can beat him. We're with you."

Harry wished he knew what to say, but all he could do was stand there, tears running silently down his cheeks as he turned towards Remus.

"Take care of them for me. I trust you."

The tears kept coming, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat. It was his fault. These people were dead because of him, because of the damned prophecy that had followed him since he was born, and would follow him until he died.

His mind was made up.

When he could finally see through his tears again, the apparitions had faded, but he could feel them with him, following and at the same time guiding him to his destiny. He stepped forward.

It didn't take long to find the clearing where Voldemort stood in front of what must have been less than half of his followers. He waited, unwilling to say anything to the Dark Lord that had made his life miserable time and time again.

Voldemort, it seemed, was not in the mood to relish his conquest either. Harry could see from the look on his face that the man would not be satisfied until Harry was dead and gone.

"Avada kedavra."

The words echoed in the silence, and Harry watched, calmly waiting, as the green light shot towards him. It was like some ridiculous parody of the nightmares he had been having for as long as he could remember, only this time there was no high pitched woman's scream reminding him of his mother's sacrifice. There was only blissful silence, then darkness.

Severus was pacing back and forth in the classroom, not even considering that he might be wearing a hole in the solid stone floor. It was an action he would have hated in any other, but he was so lost in thought that he didn't even realise he was doing it. His mind was focussed on trying to find a way to kill the giant serpent that had appeared to be Voldemort's familiar for so long.

It was a shame that the Sword of Gryffindor wasn't really an option. He knew that it would react badly to him if he attempted to pick it up, though he hadn't actually tested the theory to see the results. Nevertheless, he would have to manage without the goblin-made blade that was infused with basilisk venom.

A basilisk tooth could work, although Severus had no idea if the basilisk that had been found in the castle five years ago was still there. Even if it was, the only reason it had been found was because Potter was a parselmouth. It wasn't something that Severus could pick up, let alone in the short time required for his given task. Perhaps he could ask Granger and Weasley. They might have some ideas, seeing as they had spent the last several months doing exactly what he needed to do now.

He made his way from the dungeons, shivering at the temperature of the below ground level. It was significantly warmer than where he had been staying with the Dark Lord for the past few days, but it made his skin mildly irritated where he had recently been healed. He still had no idea how the boy had managed that, and he hadn't even remembered to thank him.

Thankfully it didn't take much effort to run up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, but he was reluctant to walk straight into the Great Hall in case everyone in there turned their wands in his direction.

The pain shot through him like nothing he had ever felt. He thought the Dark Mark was painful when he was being summoned, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that shot through him now. He was on his knees in seconds, hands clutched to his ears, though he knew the voice he could hear was in his mind.

"It is time to bring this to an end." If anything, the voice seemed more twisted and vile in his head than it did when he was standing in the presence of the madman. "We have withdrawn our forces. Collect your dead. Bury them. We shall do the same." The offer was far too generous, but looking out the open doors he could see that the fight was no longer raging, and the Death Eaters were indeed retreating from the battlefield.

"Potter." Ah, here it was, the demands that Severus was expecting. "You have one hour to make your way to where we are in the forest. If you do not appear during that time, we will attack again in earnest."

The moment the voice stopped, so did the pain. Severus managed to get to his feet again, but not before Granger and Weasley rushed out into the Entrance Hall in a mad panic.

"Where is Harry?"

It was Weasley that had spoken, his tone accusing.

Severus faced them, examining them in the few seconds he had before Weasley jumped at him in his impatience. They were a stark contrast to each other, Granger looking shocked and terrified at what this could mean, Weasley looking as though he would take whoever stood in his way and choke the life out of them with his bare hands.

"Gone." That was all Severus could say.

"WHAT?!"

"He was gone before the announcement. He knows what needs to be done."

Ron's anger subsided a little, as though he didn't know make of this new information. Hermione looked resigned and sad, as though she knew that the chances of them seeing their friend again were minimal.

"He's the last one, isn't he?" she asked softly. Severus nodded.

"The last what?" Ron asked, looking between the two of them, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. Granger looked towards him, sadness so evident on her face that she managed to communicate without even saying a word to him.

"He's the last horcrux?" Weasley said, shocked. "He's the last horcrux." Severus could tell the words were sinking in, subduing what was left of the red-head's temper.

"What do we need to do?" Granger asked, looking back at her former Potions Professor. "If Harry's going to do this for us then we need to make absolutely sure that this succeeds."

Ron nodded reluctantly.

"Potter told me that the only other remaining horcrux is the snake. He asked me to deal with it." Hermione nodded. "I can't wield the sword though."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to smack herself in the face. "I have it here somewhere," she said, rummaging through a purse that Severus hadn't even noticed she was wearing.

"Aha!" She pulled her hand out of the bag, holding up a slightly blooding looking fang.

"Basilisk fang," Severus breathed. Perfect.


End file.
